Dearest Helpless
by Tasteful Loathing
Summary: The new kid is regarded as a rival by the one and only Otto Rocket, and it's a bitter rivalry. As she moves in on their group, having made friends with the others, Otto is no less than peeved, especially when Lars decides to move in on HER.
1. Open Your Eyes

**A/N:** My first Rocket Power fan fiction, and my first story in a LONG while. I've lost all my skills. D: 

**Summary:** The new kid in town is regarded as a rival by the one and only Otto Rocket - and it's a bitter rivalry. As she moves in on their group, having made friends with the others, Otto is no less than peeved, especially when Lars decides to move in on _her_.

**Otto Rocket** - 16 years old - Sophomore

**Twister Rodriguez** - 16 years old - Sophomore

**Reggie Rocket** - 17 years old - Junior

**Sam Dullard **- 16 years old - Junior

**Lars Rodriguez** - 18 years old - Senior

**Lee Wickliffe** - 17 years old - Junior

* * *

"Twist! Man, look at _her_!" Otto leant forward, arms crossed over his deck, which was spread across his lap. His gaze, which was only partially hidden behind a pair of blue-lensed sunglasses, was fixed on a girl who was obviously just there for the 'boy factor'. As to not spend time describing her appearance in full, she looked like girl magazines were her main influence, and fads steered her life. 

Hand rose to shade his eyes, knocking his slightly askew cap - a black, grey and red Volcom flexfit. Turning his head, Twister glanced over, and paused. He then flushed, and tore his eyes away, instinctively drawing closer to Reggie. "Dude, I'm taken."

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with a little gander! Reg' doesn't mind!"

"Excuse me?" Reggie glared at her brother, her too, leaning towards her partner. "As a matter of fact, I do mind. You do not - I repeat, do _not _- say stuff like that when the girlfriend is present, Otto."

Huffing, Otto folded his arms. "Fine then. Squi-I mean, Sammy. You're single. Look. Isn't she a piece of work?"

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Oh, a piece of work indeed. Doesn't she look a little, uh, well..."

"Skanky?" Piped up Twister, and Reggie stifled a laugh.

Sam grinned sheepishly. "I was trying to avoid such terms."

"Skanky? No!" Otto frowned.

"Well, you've got to admit our image of skanky is a lot different to yours."

"Yeah, Otto-man, you crack onto anything that moves."

"I do not!" Otto's expression changed to a 'torn my ego down' sulk, which was pretty much typical of the sixteen-year-old, "Some best bro' _you_ are..."

"Oh get off it, Otto," Reggie placed her hand on one slender hip, cocking an eyebrow in amusement, "You're a man-whore."

He bristled, standing up. Sure, he flirted on a regular basis with his entourage of female fans, but a... a whore? In his opinion, out of the question. In others, it was very much true. But, Otto being Otto, his opinion was the only one that mattered. "Whatever you guys. Just... whatever." He dropped his skateboard, one foot lifting it up on an angle. "I'm off to the half pipe. Later. Much." And with that he pushed off, gliding effortlessly, his easiness excentuated even more so by the obvious beginners that littered the park, barely able to even pull off an ollie.

Sam brought his hand up to adjust his glasses, which were still fashioned in the rectangular, 'emo-style' that he had worn when he was younger, only a bit smaller. Blond hair had grown out, pointing out towards the sky in slanted clumps. He was no longer the chubby shortass that he once was - indeed, he had grown rather attractive, his body lean from all the sports he had participated in over the years, although his shoulders were a lot broader than the other two boys'. He was the second tallest, behind Twister. He wasn't dressed in skating gear today, though. Rather, he was dressed in his 'generally casual' getup - a black and white pinstripe shirt, a revolver emblazoned across the chest, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, baggy, washed-out jeans, a pair of grey and black 'chunky-style' sneakers and a studded black band on both wrists - he was only here for the conversation, as he was going to head home rather soon. Laptop was in a black shoulder-bag (a tiny squid logo stitched on in one corner), strap slashed diagonally across his torso. "Reggie, no offense, but your brother is seeming to be becoming more blind to his actions and his arrogance the older he gets."

Reggie sighed loudly and groaned, slouching, eyes rolling upwards. "Oh, tell me about it. He's my little bro' and all, but he's getting to be a real pain in the butt." Reggie, at seventeen, had already done most of her growing, while the boys were still having growth spurts like they were going out of fashion. Her purple hair had grown to her shoulderblades, and she usually let it loose, acheiving that 'tastefully touselled' look a lot of girls spend ages trying to mimic, although sometimes she let Trish and Sherry talk her into straigtening it, which looked just as good. She was only taller than Otto, and reached around Twister's shoulder. Light pink hoodie was left partially unzipped, exposing a simple white Roxy-brand t-shirt. The hoodie had a small skull and crossbones printed twice across the bust. Three-quarter cargo pants were camouflage-print, and a pair of simple thick-tongued skate shoes adorned her feet. But she wasn't planning on skating today, like Sam. They needed to leave soon, to finish the 'Zine, which had become increasingly popular as time passed.

Twister pouted. "Hey, don't bag my best bro' like that..." Twister hadn't really changed much physically, other than shoot upwards. His face was still fresh and youthful, and even maybe a bit vague - like a little boy. But that was one of the reasons he was so appealing - he was like a little boy trapped in a man's body. He held his helmet tucked under one arm, pads covering his elbows and knees. Loose-fit shorts were held up by a black belt, a Green Day 'American Idiot' patch ironed on one leg. Shark-tooth still dangled around his neck, tucked underneath his light brown shirt, a skull surrounded by black patterns weaving itself up from the lower right hand corner. Brown Chuck Taylor All Stars were his footwear of choice.

Lifting his helmet, placing it on his head, fixing and connecting the straps so it fit snugly over his cap, Twister placed one foot on his deck. He grinned. "I'm gonna go settle Otto-man down - and have a little shred while I'm at it. Later, guys." Quickly leaning over to give Reggie a peck on the cheek, he, too, skated off, as Reggie and Sam gave him a fond goodbye, hesitating before leaving to go finish other things - like the 'Zine, for example.

* * *

"Man whore my fucking ass..." Otto muttered to himself, obviously peeved. He wasn't even bothering to bust a few moves on the way to the halfpipe, but instead just kept a smooth, steady pace, only moving to drop a foot to push off again. A small crowd was gathered around the half-pipe, and the grinding sounds from the pipe indicating only one person was boarding - _and hogging the limelight_, Otto thought bitterly. That was his job, and he hated anyone else moving in on his scene. Jumping off his board, flipping it underneath his arm, he shoved his way through the mess of skaters, shoobies and just plain onlookers. 

Free hand pushed a few dreadlocks out of his eyes. He had grown during the years, but he was still the shortest in the group - falling behind a couple of inches behind Reggie. Indeed, he did cop a lot of flack for his lack of height, especially from Lars. His skin was deeply tanned, standing out even more against the white Blink 182 shirt that he was currently wearing. Front of his shirt was tucked into his loose denim shorts, exposing a blue double-row pyriamid belt. Famous Stars and Straps sweatbands were on both wrists. Black-and-white checkered hightops scuffed along the concrete as he tried desperately to see what was going on - and who was pulling off the moves, as by the glimpses he saw and the crowd, they were undeniably good.

He fought his way to the bottom of the staircase that lead up the side of the ramp, and absorbed the boarder in full view - once people had recognised him, they'd steered clear, as they knew Otto was clearly the best boarder in Ocean Shores, and obviously wanted to suss out the competition in person. The face was doubtlessly new, unless they were from the 'rich' district, and Otto dismissed that thought as soon as it came - they were too rough-looking to have heaps of money. The person had a pale complexion, scrambled by a mixture of light and dark clothes: black Element top with 'BAM' scrolled along the bust, white long-sleeved top underneath, and black cuffs over the shirt, around the wrists, particularly. The stranger pulled a few moves, on the opposite end, and Otto decided for a closer look, making his way up the steps in record time, just to see the figure soar upwards, making a 720 look completely simple.

Otto cocked an eyebrow. "Not bad," he admitted, leaning against the handrail, fingers tapping on the tail of his board anxiously. He, being his restless self, wanted to get in there himself. And show this newcomer how it was done.

"Not bad is right," commented Sherry, who was another skater waiting for the half-pipe, and was the closest standing to Otto. She tossed her shoulder-length blond hair carelessly, watching as the skater took another arc into the air, "Especially for a girl. She rips it up just like the boys! Talk about girl power at it's strongest!"

Otto blinked. "A girl?" Surely not. Sure, Reggie, Trist and Sherry were awesome skaters, but they weren't able to pull off what he could. And this girl... dare he say it... he was quickly considering as an adversary. It both wounded his pride and made him glad there was a girl with some serious skills here now... well, he was only guessing she was here now. For all he knew she could just be here for the weekend.

A thud tore intrudingly into his train of thought, and a quirked, pierced eyebrow questioned him silently. It was the skater, who had apparently decided to end her run - and small show, by the crowd - for now. He now was close enough to take her in more clearly. Oh God, was he ever wrong to think she had even ever set foot in a rich suburb, other than to wreck it. Along with the upper-body combo, she had a pair of washed-out, ripped three quarter jeans, countless band names and skate logos scribbled across them, and a pair of high-tops customised to look like a pair of knee-high boots. Her hair was chin-length up the front, and clipped to about two inches long up the back, all of it black. White contacts were half hidden by her penetrating glare. Two bars were through her right eyebrow, and one ring hudded the centre of her lip. 8mm plugs were in both of her ears. One black-nailed (besides the pinkie nail, which was red) hand pushed her hair away from her eyes for a short second, and she brought her skateboard up to under her arm.

She regarded Otto with a blank expression. "I can see you're dying to skate. 'Tis all yours, pipsqueak."

Otto felt his insides burn in aggrivation, and took a step forward forward, about to mouth off, but before he could, she had already pushed past him, and was already starting down the staircase. Gritting his teeth, he checked to see if his straps were firmly secured. He dropped into the half-pipe, catching a climpse of the girl, surrounded. "Bitch isn't worth my time." He growled to himself, starting to pull a few moves of his own, secretly enjoying the rush of wind against his face.

Still, he couldn't wait to see her again.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for those who hate the Reggie/Twister pairing. o.o; And I also apologise for my most-likely poor interpretation of the characters. As I said, I haven't written fanfiction in a long, long while. Plus my English teacher is _BEYOND_ crap, so I have had NO creative writing this semester whatsoever. But I'm quickly working on another chapter. 

And, no, the last sentence in the story did not mean Otto's infatuated. It's more like you'll have a fight with your enemy, but you wonder when you'll see them again, because of the conflict.

Please excuse any of my grammatical and typing errors.

Now. Go **_REVIEW_**. Nownownow.

THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING. -lovelove-


	2. Not Falling Apart

**A/N:** No, I don't own Rocket Power and their characters, only Lee. Just thought I'd settle that... I'm too poor to get sued... ;3; Plus the lyrics are from 'Accidents' by Alexisonfire (who are touring in August! SQUEE! ...Now to get mum to let me go...), from their album 'Watch Out!' (-shameless promotion-). I do not own the song or lyrics in any way, and never said I had.

Okay. Enough political copyright bullshit... Onto the story!

_"These are lyrics,"_

and

_These are thoughts._

* * *

A week had passed. A dull week, nevertheless, but the time had passed anyway. Otto was still stewing over the arrogant tone of the female skater, but hadn't seen her since. "Dude, maybe she was just visiting town," Twister had tried to work that possibility into Otto's head since the incident, but Otto was stubborn, convinced she had just gone into hiding - or was just avoiding him.

Twist had shaken his head, a weak, mocking smile on his freckled face. "You get so worked up sometimes, Otto-man."

Otto had turned back, his speech containing more irritibility and anger than what he had liked, "Look Twist, if you just want to give up, give the most likely situation rule, fine. Just, FINE. I bet you she's still here. _I bet_. No matter how farfetched that might sound, I swear she'll pop back up. If not," he flexed his fingers, giving his helmet strap a good snap against the side of his jaw, "I'll hunt her down."

"You're crazy, Otto. You really are."

* * *

_"If only we could... heal ourselves... We wouldn't... need to be hooked up to these machines... Woah-oah-woah. Woah-oah-oah-a-woah-oah..."_ _Asking me for autographs? I wasn't expecting that much of a welcome here_, eyes half closed, gently watching the path in front of her, the scenery smoothly moving along, the skateboarder hurriedly tried to calm her thoughts - and sense of direction. _'Just follow the boardwalk' she said, 'You'll find your way around eventually', she said..._ "Urgh."

She stopped. Meekly stepping off her skateboard, she brought it up into both palms, almost cradling it as she looked upon the underside. The ripped strands of tape, the scrapes and scratches from grinding, the fixed-up crack from when she majorly beefed during a demo and chucked a fit, flinging it away, narrowly missing one of the cameramen, and having it smack into the railing from the halfpipe... all of these hid the originally blue shades of her deck, yet small patches were still visible. Fingers brushed over one of the wheels, carelessly sending them into a slow rotation.

_"Let's redefine... let's redefine... let's redefine..."_ A body slammed into hers, and carried on walking, not seeming to register the contact, and she looked up suddenly. It was no wonder. She was standing in the middle of the gradually increasing crowd, the mass mix of both locals and sight-gazing shoobies hurrying down the path. People were winding around her, as she was just like another bench or bin along the way.

_"Do they even cure you... (Cut me open. Drug me.) Or is it just to humour us before we die...?"_ Dropping her eyes to her deck, just in enough time to register the black scroll of writing over and across everything else - 'Wishing you luck, Lee. Succeed. Dominate. I'll be there for you.' Lee. Lee Wickliffe. One of the younger skating prodigies of the East Coast. That's what and who she was. The writing was from her brother, who, sadly, didn't make the move with her and her mother to the West. Aha. Journey to the West. Dropping her skateboard, letting it swing downwards, one hand still grasping it, she slipped into an aware state of mind just to feel another body smack against her. "Watch where you stand, skate rat!" came the shout, but like the previous person, the body was gone before she could find the owner of the voice.

_"Woah-oah-oah... woah-oah-oah-a-woah-oah..."_ "Oh, go fuck yourself," she growled under her breath, huffing, looking around. She had no idea where she was, really. Beach off to one side, and a take away joint off to the other. The faint scent of greasy yet delicious foodstuffs came wafting faintly from... what was it called? Lee brought her line of sight up further... 'The Shore Shack'. _Well, not as known as a corporate chain, but by the business it looks to not be all that dangerous..._ she thought to herself, before stepping towards it, opposite hand quickly unbuckling and pulling off her helmet, a couple of spare fingers loosening the flattened hair from her scalp. Snapping the headphones out from her ears, the sharp static fading as the song ended, she felt the sudden ambience of public dining hit her in the face. Hand shuffled in her pocket to quickly turn her mp3 player off, just as another riff started slamming against the small speakers.

There were a few tables around the joint, all occupied. A range of faces, although most were below their mid-twenties, and most with some degree of sporting wear on. Two men seemed to be manning the counter - a jolly-looking Hawaiian man seeming to make several meals at one, flipping patties and tipping baskets of deep-fried chips with ease, completing around four orders as she watched, and a taller man, ratty bucket cap pulled over what one could only guess to be a balding blond head, who was talking to a pair of kids her own age, who were sitting at the counter - a blond boy, and a purple-haired girl. The man in the bucket hat ducked into the back a few times, bringing out a few more boxes of patties and buns, and, wiping the back of his hand across his forehed, disappeared through the swinging door. The Hawaiian man's joyful, hearty laugh was loud as Lee approached the counter herself, unsure, as this was the first time she'd eaten out since moving here (her mother was quite fond of hearty, homecooked meals), but hungry nevertheless.

"Oh, hurry up Tito!" the purple-haired girl - obviously Reggie - called, her order seemning bratty if it wasn't for the joking smile on her face, "Sammy and I are starrrving..."

The man - Tito - laughed again. "I'm going as fast as I can, little cuzzes. There is only so much a man can do!" Effortlessly, he flung their meals onto the counter, along with tossing another meal onto the table nearest.

Lee nearly had a heart attack. Gaping, wide-eyed, she clutched the counter, she bit her tongue as to not explode into a long string of obscenties. "You nearly swiped my head off!"

Tito turned to look her way. "I'm sorry, little cuz. It wasn't intended, trust me on that."

Reggie and Sam both turned to look at her curuiously, not recognising her face straightoff, as she pulled up a stool, elbows leant on the counter. She looked across the menu board, waving her hand dismissively. "Nah, it's... it's okay. I guess. You just scared the absolute Hell out of me."

Tito wiped his hands off on a teatowel, hanging it back up. He smiled and laughed, tone light. "Now, little cuz, are you just going to watch me all day, making sure I don't try anything else, or are you going to order?"

"I could eat a _boot_ right about now, as long as it's deep fried... I'm starved. But... Uh... what do you... recommend?"

"Ah, a tourist, hey? I see you haven't yet witnessed Tito's almighty Hawaiian cooking yet."

She brought her nails along her palm, chin resting on her hand. Eyebrows furrowed slightly. "There is _no way_ I'm a shoobie."

Sam clicked his fingers in sudden realization, recognising her face. He tilted his head. "I agree, Tito. I don't think she's a shoobie."

Lee whirled to stare at Sam accusingly. "I really do appreciate you backing me up, as it's the damn truth, but... I don't know you... do I?"

Sam stared back, smile friendly. "No, you don't. I saw a bit of your run at MadTown, what, a week ago?" He nodded to himself. "Yeah, it was a week ago. Just before I left. There is no way a shoobie could rip it up like _that_."

Reggie nodded, next to Sam, nibbling on a french fry. "I think you gave my brother a scare with that routine. He's been ranting and raving about you almost all week..."

Sam laughed, agreeing. "Oh, yeah. We're all going insane. Otto doesn't take well to other skilled skaters."

Lee straightened in her seat, her stomach growling. "Well... Uh. Enough of that for... just... this second. Just until after my stomach stops eating itself. Again, what do you recommend?"

"Well, I'd say you should order the chilli cheese fries, for one." Sammy patted his stomach, mentioning to his almost-empty basket. "Delicious."

Leaning forward, Lee fingered the loophole on her wallet. "Fine. Chilli cheese fries and... uh... a blue Gatorade, thanks."

"I must say that _is_ a good choice. It'll be ready in just a few."

Pulling out a couple of notes, she stuck them under her helmet, placing it on the surfboard-shaped counter. "M'kay. There's my money. Now, I'm just going to freshen up." She raised her eyebrows at Sam. "I still don't really know you, but you seem trustworthy enough. Make sure no one makes off with my food, 'kay? I need to duck out for a few."

Reggie laughed. "All you should be afraid of is Sammy eating them!" She punched Sam - who had a mock-hurt look on his face - in the arm softly, joking.

Smiling briefly, Lee hopped off her stool, headphones dangling around her collar, and dashed around to the bathroom, built on the side of the shop. Making her way through the swing door, she heard it click shut quietly, and she paused. It didn't seem like any of the stalls were occupied, so she stalked up to the mirror, scrutinizing her own reflection. Fingertips tried to smudge her makeup into place, but with no avail, so she just neatened her hair. Faint paste of sweat made her features glisten. "I guess it shows my lack of action recently," she whispered to herself, hoping no one intruded, thinking she was some crazy teenager out to kill, "Man, I haven't even been pushing myself that hard... It must be the heat..." A few moments passed, and her palms grasped the sides of the small washbasin, staring herself down. "Fuck, Lee, pick up your game. As soon as you settle into this Goddamn place, fucking PUSH YOURSELF. Keep striving. Keep fucking going along. Keep bloody-"

The door clicked open again, and a customer rushed in, hitting the hand drier before dashing into a stall. Lee growled, dropping her eyes to the drain, going silent. Thoughts were brewing in her head, but that wasn't that unusual. She was a generally tempremental person.

Running the tap, flicking a handful of water onto her face, she sighed heavily, taking a last, wistful glance at herself, remembering what had been said to her no less than a month ago. _Stop fucking around, Wickliffe. You can do better than this. I know you're moving, but keep your mind on the game, girl. Remember - make some contacts. Pull off some moves. Push yourself to the point of collapse, then get back up and outdo yourself again. You've been doing that for years - don't stop now._ She nodded to herself, making sure not to slam the door behind her as she exited, trotting back to the Shack. _I think I've met my first contacts. And if they're talking about the same Otto I'm thinking of... This should be rather interesting._

Sure enough, there was her fries, thankfully covered to keep most of the warmth in. She grinned as she took the lid off, watching the heat billow off them, snapping up a fry and chomping down. "Awh man," she said, not to anyone in particular, but best guess was that it was directed at Tito, voice becomng muffled as more were stuffed into her mouth, "Deeshe are some hardcaw friesh yuv gawt here." Hurriedly swallowing, she chugged down a fair amount of Gatorade. "Ahhh..." Only then did she control her eating to a unshameful, public-friendly manner. She grimaced. "What? I was bloody starving... Thanks for holding my meal... uh... who are you again? Uh... I know it starts with an s... I think..."

"Sam, or Sammy, if you prefer."

"Ah. Well, thanks, Sammy, man."

Leaning back a little bit, slowly slurping the whipped cream that whirled in his thickshake, he smiled. "And who would you be? ...It's only common courtesy to ask."

Handful of chips were snagged and wolfed down before she answered. "Last time I checked my name was Lee... Lee Wickliffe."

Reggie choked on the dregs of her drink, she coughed a few times before pressing her arms against the counter, tears in her eyes from the fit. "Lee Wickliffe?" She looked over to her, clutching her glass. "You're pulling my leg, aren't you?"

"Well, there _was_ that name change incident last year... but, yeah, I do happen to have that name."

"You're were in Skate'N'Shred last year!"

Lee bit her tongue, looking downwards, nibbling a few chips. _So people still do remember. ...Of course they stillremember, you idiot._"Yeah, guess I was, 'ey..."

Reggie beamed, excited. "Oh man, this is _awesome_. Another female skater in the reigon!"

Sam swung his head back and forth between the two. "What, was there an article or something...?"

Reggie shrugged. "Well, there was an article with it... But you remember the DVD that Otto was on, don't you, Sammy?"

"Yeah... 'Skaters Most Likely to Dominate in Five Years'... it had Otto's demo on it... Wait. You were on it?" He paused, looking her up and down, taking in her features. Sure enough, he was surprised he hadn't placed her identity earlier. "Ha. Now I recognise you... You were featured in Reggie's Girls Vs. Boys story too..."

"Dude, I was?" Lee was genuinely puzzled, and - although this had been happening more and more frequently since her fifteen minutes of fame - a tad bit embarrassed, not really wanting to be treated this important.Indeed, her personality was confusing -full of poride one minute, meek and shy the next. Purely unpredictable.Her eyebrows furrowed. "...Wait, who the Hell's Reggie?"

"That would be me. I'm Reggie. Reggie Rocket. I run a magazine around here." She mentioned behind her to the small newspaper shelf, which had a few remaining copies of that month's issue on display. Now that the magazine was so popular throughout Ocean Shores, there was a pricetag on it, but not many seemed to mind. It came out for the best, with Reggie winning the California Youth Journalism Award just a few months earlier, and a guaranteed place in the nearby University. "In that article, I placed you against my brother in skateboarding..." She winced. "Oh man... Otto's gonna freak... and _not_ in that good way..."

* * *

**A/N:** Well, well. I always want to write at the worst times. I was freezing my butt off typing this up. And with this result, I should've probably kept sleeping... the story didn't go that far in this chapter... So I re-wrote this, after stewing over it whilst watching television (I'm such a whiny perfectionist).

Please excuse any of my grammatical and typing errors. (;

Now. _**Go REVIEW**_. Nownownownow.

**Reviewers:**

**ottomatic21:** Yeah, and there's plenty more derogatory nicknames he gets called, too. Poor short Otto. And yeah, this rivalry will probably get worse and worse... Hehe... Glad you like it!

**WhATs hER NaME 9613:** We could just admire each other's works, then! (; And you're right, Element is an awesome company. ...Oh man, Bam margera is a LEGEND! I love him too! Aww, I feel honored to have inspired you... keep up with the awesome writing! And thanks for adding this to your favourite stories list! -feels special-


	3. My Stupid Mouth

**A/N:** Yep, another chapter. Inspired by a fellow Rocket Power fanfiction writer - Makk (WhATs hER NaME 9613)! Hehe, this is turning into a tennis game of inspiration... Anyway, **I don't own Rocket Power or it's characters, but I do have rights on Lee**, who is a character of my creation. So no getting sued for me today:D Now... to the story!

_These are thoughts_,

"and this is just normal speech with an excentuation on a _certain_ word."

* * *

Another half-week had passed without much to celebrate or cry over, as the days had been strung out and basicaly just run-of-the-mill in ways of excitement. No competitions had gone on for a while, and Otto was going out of his mind - he didn't have an extra hobby past all the sports he did, unlike Reggie (with the 'Zine, and the several 'girly' sessions that she had with Trish and Sherry each week), Sam (the 'Zine, plus writing computer programs and helping out at the local computer store), and Twister (with his steadily improving camera work and movie making, he was showing a lot of promise, plus those bloody dance lessons his mother had forced him into taking every Friday afternoon...).

The sun was quickly bringing itself higher and higher into the blindingly bright clear sky, casting reflections onto the ocean, sending sparkles through the foam that pulled itself back and forth across the shore. A gorgeous swell was sending perfect waves across what had been a flat surface the week beforehand, and the gang were itching to get out there... They would've marched out to the beach there and then, but there was one small problem holding them back - school was still in session.

Bag slung lazily off one shoulder, creasing the already crumpled green Blink 182 shirt (freshly picked up off his floor, shaken and sprayed with deodorant), Otto swung his head back to Twister, who was only a couple of feet behind. After a brief silence, their eyes met, and Twister grinned. "Ready to admit defeat, Otto-man?"

Pushing a few stray dreadlocks away from his eyes, again hidden behind a pair of shades, Otto quirked one eyebrow. Faded jeans, the back pockets covered with checker-print material (this item of clothing had just met with a fresh machine wash, so these were actually clean), crumpled around his high tops as he shifted his weight on his skateboard. He turned his head to face the pavement before him, to make sure he wasn't going to crash into anyone - well, anyone he liked, anyway. "What are you talking about?"

"That skater girl. You know, the one you've been basically vowing to kill over the last week and whatever?" Twister pushed his hands into the higher front pockets of his off-grey cargo pants, a camouflage t-shirt - reading 'You can't see me!' across the chest - clinging to his torso, no matter how many times he had pulled and stretched the material while wearing it. Insanely flat bag ("Why have a big bag when you're not gonna put anything in it?") pressed against the small of his back, straps draped along his shoulders.

Forehead creased. "I never said I'd _kill _her."

"Yeah, bro, you did."

"Ugh." He stopped, pulling up his skateboard, and Twister followed suit. The school loomed in front of them, students littered on and around the front steps. Sunshine glared down strongly, giving everything a lively glow, but it didn't help the fact it was school, and that meant shutting up and keeping still - something both Twister and Otto did not do well.

Looking around, hoping for any distraction to take them away, anything to stop them going into the hallways as of yet, Twister smiled. "Sammy just pulled up, Otto." Sure enough, off by the bicycle rack was Sam, chaining up his mountain bike, crouched down by one side of it. His hands obviously had not had enough time to lift themselves and neaten his helmet-matted hair, which was plastered down, save for a few straggly clumps. Struggling to his feet, palm rubbing his right knee tenderly, he brushed off his pants - a stylishly ripped dark denim pair of jeans - and had a quick fiddle with the collar of his shirt - a black cotton polo with three guns (two pink, one silver) down the left side. Hefty backpack sat at his feet, which he picked up gingerly, dragging it out of the cage that surrounded the bikes as a means of protection, closing the gate midway. Frowning to himself, muttering, his expression cleared as the two teens scuttled over, fingering one of the loose strands of hair that had fallen across his forehead. "You've beaten us _again_, Sammy!" Twister's grin was wide, as he clearly knew this was not really something hard to achieve.

Sam answered with a lopsided smile and a laugh. "I know, Twister. I _know_. I've beaten you, like every _other_ trip to school." His palms finally massaged against his scalp, ruffling his hair into a series of skyward spikes. "Unlike you, I try to get to school at a decent time, and don't act like I'm marching to my own grave while doing so."

"A decent time? What, like before lunch?"

Stifling a laugh, Sam knelt back down, unzipping his backpack and flicking through the several writing pads and textbooks that were crammed inside. Pulling out a lined exercise book, he began flipping pages, making sure the right work was in there. "I mean before first bell, Twist." He shook his head. "But then again, I do take pride when it comes to my grades, and don't just see school as another place to wreak havoc."

Twister pouted. "Hey, I'm no genius-"

"You can say that again, Twist'," Otto interuptted quickly, who had circled Sammy and was leaning against the fence wire that was one of the outer walls of the bike cage, skateboard propped up beside him, bag dumped at his feet. Only really throwing a comment in, rather than participating in the 'every other day' conversation that was the friendly banter between Twister and Sam, his eyelids dropped and he slouched, his appearance taking on somewhat of a 'cool' disposition - which would be close to the truth, as he was one of the more well-known (therefore 'popular') students. The whole group was, really. Even Sam, who used to have the 'dork' label, back when it was impossible to think that you could have a brain and still be liked by many.

"-But I'm an average student!"

"Yeah, a C-average student."

"At least it's still a pass!"

A trio of laughs interuptted them. "Hey, settle you two, or I'll get the hose out!" The voice belonged to Reggie, who was flanked by Sherry and Trish, who were, half of the time, her 'group'. For when, well, she felt like being a girl. The guys were, logically, for when she felt like being a bit more boyish; back in the day Reggie would've rather done _anything_ other than actually act like a girl, but now that she had matured, she had both 'girl time' and 'guy time'. No favouritism was taken, of course - she was still level-headed Reggie, who knew what everyone else wanted, and tried to provide as much of it as she could.

Trish grinned slyly, rubbing her palms together. "I dunno, Reggie, I want to see if a fight breaks out this time." The asian surfer's soft brown-black hair fell straight to her shoulders in a silky mass, her fringe layered across her forehead and down her cheekbones. Her skin was still naturally pale, despite how much time she spent in the sun, and this made her full, rounded lips stand out even more.. Pale spring-green cap-sleeved polo showed her curves whilst still being conservative, a pair of three-quarter jeans stopping a few inches above her woven sandals. Deep brown eyes twinkled micheviously. "What about you, Sher'?"

Sherry's eyebrows furrowed, and she rested one hand on her hip, tilting it as she shook her head, making a small 'tsk, tsk, tsk!' sound. "I thought you were over seeing a primitive fist fight." She smiled, after a pause, "Of course, this is taking the fights for your affection out as an exemption..." Golden ringlets spun around and down past her features, stopping at just above her shoulders, groomed to perfection (this _is _Sherry we're talking about, after all). And, as usual, not one hair, thread or step was out of place. Gold hoops swung from her earlobes, gently grazing her powdered cheeks. Four strapped (two placed normally, the other two criss-crossed to wind around her neck), soft pink top had that extremely 'soft and fluffy' look to it, although it was a thin material, and had no heavy creases, looking especially well-ironed next to Otto's floorpile pickup that was his tee. White bell skirt ruffled a little in the slow, salty Ocean Shores breeze. Pink and white 'Mary Jane' wingtips took care as to not scuff their toes on the school ground pavement.

"Naw, we're over it now," Twister pointed out quickly, before the girls had any ideas of taking cash-in-hand wagers for who was most likely to come out on top - and, mind you, it would've been a fair fight... if there ever _was_ one.

"Good," Reggie sighed, stepping forward and snaking her arm around Twister's, his fingers reaching to entwine with hers, "Because if you hit Twist', Sammy, I'd have to sock you one myself." Her eyes were kind though, and Sam knew she wouldn't do such a thing - even though she was currently dating Twister, Sam was no doubt her best friend, and was there to help her with her problems in a heartbeat, dare I say, even before Maurice. Reggie and Sam shared a bond that they didn't even have to exchange words to know what the other was thinking - and this closeness was often mistaken as a relationship, which was often an exaggerated rumour around the school, although anyone who knew the two well enough would agree that they were just _not_ the people who would have a behind-his-back relationship, as they both had too much common sense to do so.

Regina was dressed simply but stylishly in a pink sleeveless tee, a sheer black overlay held on with hot pink stitching, a small skull printed on the upper right. Well-worn flares covered most of her black and white skate shoes. Her purple waves were pulled loosely into a bun, a few strands settled either side of her face. "Have you finished that chemistry practical review, Sammy?"

"Is the sky blue?" He had just placed the book holding the homework in his bag, and he didn't really want to pull it back out, so he hoisted his bag up and swung it around to hang off one shoulder, as to make a point.

"Well, it really depends on whether you're colourblind or not," Trish countered quickly, laughing.

"Hey, hold up!" He muttered lowly to himself. Eyebrows quirking upwards, Otto suddenly stood straight, grabbing his skateboard, quickly tossing his backpack on. His speech was directed at the group, but his eyes were locked on the open doors that lead to the hallway. "I'll catch you guys - and _girls_ - later on. See you in Biology, Twist'." With that he dashed away, disappearing into the gradually increasing crowd of students.

"What was that about?" Sherry inquired lowly to Reggie, who shrugged limply.

"Don't ask me. Just because he's my brother doesn't necessarily mean I understand him... at _all_."

"Anywho... yes, Reggie, I /did," he shot a sharp look at Trish, who grinned back kiddingly, "Finish that report."

"I never doubted you," She winked, "Just making sure."

* * *

Heavily tanned hand shot forward, grabbing someone by the shoulder, whirling them roughly around. "I've been looking for you," he growled lowly, hard caramel-coloured eyes glowering icily into what were at the time just a pair of pupils, the eye colour hidden by a mask of white. "Searching for a while, in fact."

Eyebrows lowered, and she pulled herself roughly out of his hard grasp. "I don't know what the fuck you're going on about," she hissed, stepping backwards hastily, "This is my first day here."

"You know _very well _what I'm fucking talking about," Otto muttered angrily, his hands subconsciously balling into fists, the all too familiar burst of adrenalin starting to course through his body. _I don't care if I'm not meant to pick on girls, if they push the wrong fucking buttons, they must serve the consequence._

Her heart was in her throat, Hell, she didn't even know if she could pull out a sentence without her throat reducing it into a squeak, but Lee knew she had to think fast. "I'm sorry, I have a horrible memory," she batted her eyelashes, tone falsely sickly-sweet, "Can you please refesh it for me?"

All this time students were hurrying past, weaving around them, just like the shoppers on the boardwalk - not really paying attention to them, except for a couple of girls who eyed off Otto hungrily before being ushered away by another pair of girls, turning their heads back to the dreadlocked heartbreaker, before disappearing around a corner.

Otto tried to breathe steady, exhaling deeply, balled-up fist quivering ever so slightly. He ground his teeth together and straightened before responding. "Of course," he replied, in mock-kindness, before his tone darkened, "Mad Town-"

"Where the fuck?"

"The fucking _skate park_, you dumb piece of shit, the fucking SKATE PARK. You and your fucking display of 'talent', hogging the half pipe while others obviously wanted to board there-"

She sniffed haughtily, "I saw _you_ hogging it a couple of days after."

Otto felt his jaw tighten in frustration. _God, she is just fucking **asking** for it._ He wiped one palm down his face. "That is _not_ the point!"

A few guys and girls stopped, as Otto's voice had risen above that of a private conversation. "Dude, lover's quarrel?"

"No way man, last time I heard Otto had no one on his arm."

"Yeah, she must be new here or something... never seen her before."

"And you gotta admit, she's hard to miss." Chorus of agreements answered.

"I doubt Otto goes for girls like _her_ anyway," one girl sneered.

Another clung her shoulder bag to her side, looking Lee up and down, "She looks pretty _butch_ if you ask _me_."

One of the boys frowned, glancing to the girls, "You two are so judgemental."

"Yeah, she's kind of hot."

"If you go for girls like that, man..."

"And what the fucking Hell did I- Oh, wait! I remember _you-ou_... Sadly you haven't grown either, munchkin." Lee stepped backwards, hoping to make a quick getaway when she had the chance. Judging by his body language, she had clearly crossed the line.

"You know," Otto fought to keep his voice steady, "I really do _despise_ being reminded of my height."

"Man, Otto looks really tweaked."

"Yeah, he looks like he's gonna go off at the mouth any second now."

More people stopped, whispered enquiries as to what was going on a low hum. Both bickering skateboarders failed to notice the increasing crowd around them.

"So," Lee brought one hand to her temple, "You've been 'looking for me' because I bagged you out? Dude, that's really not cool. That's just downright _pathetic_. But then again, you do look to me like a pretty pathetic example of a human being." _...Oh shit..._

"AGHHH!" With a yell, Otto launched himself at her, wresting her to the floor. They hit the linoleum heavily, and Otto felt the hard smack of his bag against his spine, but he didn't care. Lee's arms flung out at him in defense, and his fist rose, the other hand grasping the collar of her shirt tightly.

Someone's hands quickly brought themselves to cup at their mouth, and the yell rung down the hall. "FIGHT!"

* * *

**A/N:** ...Well, wasn't that a happy end to the chapter? Yes, Otto obviously is a Blink 182 fan in this fic'. Could you tell? (; And as another note, I'm not really sure if Trish is Asian, but she just looks it to me. So don't bite my head off or anything if she isn't. -sweatdrops-

Please excuse any of my typing and grammatical errors. (:

Please _**REVIEW**_! I'd appreciate it. :D


	4. Thankyou For The Venom

**A/N:** Woah, two chapters in two days. Shocking. Seriously. It is. Anyway, **I don't own Rocket Power or any of it's characters, just Lee,** and I guess VP Kuoha, because I just made her up on the spot... Well, onto the story!

_These are thoughts,_

and

_"These are lyrics."_

* * *

"Otto Rocket," Vice Principal Kuoha shook her head, massaging one deeply bronzed temple tiredly, "I'm disappointed, but," The middle-aged Hawaiian woman gave him a hard look from behind her thin-wired frames, "I'm not all that surprised. Just..." she sighed deeply, "Another fight? Seriously Otto, this has got to stop. Do I need to have a word to your father on the subject of anger management classes?" 

He tensed. "What? No! Ugh," he gritted his teeth, fingers squeezing the sides of his chair in a vain attempt to vent his frustration, "No, Miss Vice Principal Kuoha. It's just that, ugh!" he widly thrust a pointing finger Lee's way, "She started it!" _Woah, even to me I sound like a petty child._

Miss Kuoha looked harried, expression on the verge of exhaustion. She sighed once more. "And you, Lee Wickliffe..." she gestured hoplessly, "Your first day! I don't know how lenient your school back East was, but here at Ocean Shores High we do _not_ condone any type of this behavior!" Her face softened, and she tried to meet Lee's gaze - which was directed anywhere but at Otto, her arms crossed stubbornly - with pleading eyes. "Do you really want to start your time here with such foolish acts?"

"Hey, he started it," Lee muttered under her breath darkly, shoulders hunching as she folded her arms tighter. She could feel the daggers thrown at her from Otto, who was only a few feet to the right, in a chair identical to hers.

The Vice Principal was suddenly enraged. She stood, slamming her hand on the desk, her tone harsh, "And here at OCH we have _mature_ students, not whiny brats who carry on like five-year-olds!"

"Hey!" Otto protested, rising from his chair himself, "I am _not_ a whiny brat!"

"Really? You have a chance to prove that in a few days." VP Kuoha lowered herself onto her desk chair, ruffling papers aimlessly, "You can stay here the rest of the day, for Ms. Wickliffe's sake, as long as there is _no more_ rough business, but you're both suspended until further notice."

"That's completely bull!" Otto retorted hotly, his fists balling again. Both the students flinched as her face contorted furiously, so angry she was intimidating, even more by the cold monotone she answered with.

"You keep your comments to yourself _Mr. Rocket_. That is an order."

"You're not the boss of me..." came the sputtering reply.

"As long as you are in these grounds, I _am_. Now get out of my office."

"This is so fucking bogus..." grumbled Lee.

"And that's another rule: no cursing _whatsoever_, or there will be a series of detentions on top of your suspension notice, Ms. Wickliffe!"

"Say _what_?"

"This conversation is over. Pick up your timetable from the front office on your way out, Wickliffe. I'll be ringing both your parents shortly."

"But-!"

"Out!"

Lee jumped to her feet in sync with Otto, both pulling their bags up hurriedly and marching angrily towards the door. Otto gave her a rough shove in the shoulder after the doorway, down the small hallway that lead to the front office. "This is _your_ fault."

"I wasn't the one who lost the plot and jumped at me!" She drove her palm against his arm, pushing him back away. "So get fucked, it is _so_ _your_ fault."

Otto mumbled something incoherent, containing a few colourful terms.

"Look, if it means anything, I know who you are."

"Well _obviously_, considering I've had my name yelled at me God knows how many times since first bell."

"No, I know who you _are_."

"Please explain."

Lee shook her head tiredly. "Nevermind, man. I'm not in the mood. Go through your DVD demos. You might find me."

Otto regarded her with a puzzled expression, his eyebrows drawn down into a frown, but didn't bother arguing to find a point. _Raymundo is going to freak out enough, I don't need another fight. No matter how much she pisses me off..._

They both stepped away to create a huge gap, Lee on the left wall, Otto on the right. It was the only way they could get where they needed to go without killing each other. Taking around a minute to manage their way through the front office door without coming in any contact with each other, Lee strode to the counter. "I need a timetable," she stated bluntly to the twenty-something man sitting behind the long desk, who looked bored out of his mind.

He yawned. "Why don't you have one already, Sir?"

Lee could hear Otto snort behind her. "It's _Miss_, thankyou," she growled, "And I don't have one because I'm new, you idiot."

Not amused, he glanced at her beneath a half-lidded gaze. "Name?"

"Lee Wickliffe."

"Please spell that out for me, please."

"Ugh... Wickliffe. W-I-C-K-L-I-F-F-E."

The printer whired strangely, but spat out the timetable nevertheless. He snapped it up and trust it into the outstretched hand. "There. Get to class."

* * *

Otto trudged through the door, slamming it behind him. The class turned to stare at him, most jumping from the loud sound. A couple of girls giggled and turned to whisper behind cupped palms, and a few of the boys whistled and clapped, whooping to Otto about 'kicking that bitch's ass'. Huffing, mumbling a short apology about being late to English class, he plonked down at the desk next to Twister - the kid who was occupying it a few seconds before has scuttled to another free seat, not wanting to get in Otto's way.

His face had a few scratches on it, his eyes also starting to purple, a speck of blood that hadn't been washed away sitting on his cheek. A split in his upper lip was stinging painfully, and his tongue pushed at a slightly dislodged tooth, which he knew he'd probably have to get checked out by the dentist later. His shoulders felt unusually heaving, and a quite a few bruises ran down his body, hidden by his clothing. A small rip at the sleeve seams of his shirt could be easily fixed, and his was glad over that, considering this shirt was one of his favourites. Removing his cracked glasses - a different pair than what he usually wore, and he deemed himself lucky for that - he sighed inwardly.

"So what happened, Otto-man?"

"VP Kuoha was absolutely tweaked. But not as tweaked as Raymundo will be when he hears that I'm suspended until God knows when..."

"Harsh. But you know the rules, dude."

"Yeah. It's just that she... ugh. She said some shit I need to think over, but... argh!" He brought his hands up to cradle his head gently. "She is such a... ugh. I dunno. I hate her, and I don't even know her."

* * *

It was lunchtime. Clutching her somewhat squashed (as it was homemade, and her bag was pummeled along with her, for it had been hanging off her shoulder when Otto struck) salad roll, Lee nibbled at it boredly. She wasn't all that hungry; her body had a number of aches that she desperately needed to nurse more than her stomach. It was just like a bad fall from a big air in her opinion, except the concrete didn't have fists. Fiddling in her pocket, she pressed a few buttons on her mp3 player, a small crack lacing across the screen. A click of a gun, a guitar intro and a scream of 'get down! yeah!' filled her ears. _"Woo! Get down!"_

_"I'm lying to myself, and this dagger's my excuse. I'm apalled; I should have paid up..."_ Looking down, she tisked, noting the long rip down the middle of her black Unearth shirt - a front screen featuring a photo montage of skyscrapers and uniformed officers in riot gear - leaving her collar hangng by a few bare threads. The knees of her jeans were scuffed, and three inches of the left sleeve of her white long-sleeved BAM top was ripped cleanly off. _"...And I hate light - you know I hate light. Don't make it look so pretty burning..."_

_"Burn the sun. Burn the light. Take take take take take take it away..."_ Her temple had a small bandage stuck on, and her right eye was quickly darkening to purple, swollen to the point that she had to keep it closed to minimise the pain. She was bloody lucky none of her piercings had been ripped out by Otto's blows, but the small bruise by her mouth was awfully close to the ring that penetrated her lip. Stretching, trying to ignore the searing pain in her back, pointing to toes of her stark-white globes to the sky, she laid back on the schoolground grass, closing her eyes midway. _"I must have caught something, in the heat of all these dances... I'm a worm with no more chances, and I've lost all doubt in a chemical romance."_

A shadow obscured most of the light that had been shining on her. Muttering, she opened her eyes quickly, shutting them just as fast, not bothering to sit up or even have a look who it was. "...Go away." _"I guess I'm bitching at the thoughts of tarnished hope. It's kind of funny,"_

_"The only feeling; I'm not in love,"_ The figure smirked as she opened her eyes into a squint, leaning over her. "I must congratulate you on giving that Rocket shrimp a run for his money earlier. For a girl you obviously pull some fast punches."

_"You know it's not love. Don't make it look so pretty burning."_ Heaving a sigh, figuring this person wasn't going to leave without a conversation, she painfully pulled herself up to prop against her elbows, quickly switching her mp3 player off. "What's it to you?"

He stood a bit straighter, taken aback by her dangerous tone, but not enough to retreat. "Can't I give you a simple pat on the back?"

"No, no you can't, beause I'm too fucking sore. Can't you just admire me from afar or something? I'm really not in the mood."

"Oh, I can put you in the mood, trust me," he purred confidently.

She lowered her chin to her collarbone, regarding him with a tired stare. "Look, just go away."

"Not until after a decent introduction," he insisted, not willing to back down.

"Fine then. I'm Lee Wickliffe, I'm a skateboarder, I recently moved here from the East Coast and I _really_ want to be left alone."

The boy dipped into a quick bow, not a formal one but he thought better than to try to get a handshake or anything else out of her at the moment, grinning lopsidedly. His deeply tanned skin was covered by a thin-material zip-up grey jacket, five red stars (gradually getting larger the higher up they went) printed diagonaly across the torso. Low-riden jeans were held up by a three-row pyramid belt, a bare inch of his boxers visible between his jeans and his jacket. Dark crimson high tops were covered by heavily ripped and scuffed jean edges. Messily wavy, nose-length hair stuck out from beneath his grey beanie, a few strands marring his cold grey eyes. A gap was in his smile, and a ring hung from the right side of his lip.

Smiling slyly, he spoke. "If you have bothered to visit the girl's bathrooms, you may see the _charming_ things written about me." He leant forward again, eyes half-closed. "I'm Lars Rodriguez."

* * *

**A/N:** Lars doesn't give up easily, does he? Hehe. Lee probably would've kicked him if she could be bothered.

The song on Lee's mp3 player was 'Take It Away' by the Used. **I don't own the song and never said I did.** And thus ends saving my ass for copyrighted thingsin this chapter.

Please excuse any spelling and grammatical errors. (:

Please _**REVIEW**_! I'd really appreciate it!

**Review Responses:**

**not-right-now62:** Aww, thanks for the comment! I'm glad you like my story. Yeah, I don't think this rivalry between Lee and Otto is going to die just yet. Lee's got attitude, but she's also got a big mouth. (; Hopefully she learns to keep her mouth shut a little more as the story continues, but you'll just have to see.


	5. I'm Not The One

**A/N:** It's a viiio-lent pornography... choking chicks and sodomyyy... The kind of shit you that's on your T-V-ee-eee...

M'kay,** I don't own Rocket Power and it's characters, only Lee**. I never claimed I owned the rest, do don't sue me. Mer. My lip is itchy. ...Uh, anyway. On to the story! Again!

_These are thoughts,_

and

This is a sentence with a strain on a _particular_ word.

* * *

Again, days had passed since the last documentation. Two, in fact. Indeed, Raymundo had almost exploded in anger at his adolescent son, therefore Otto had been sentenced to shifts at the Shore Shack until his suspension had been lifted. Lee, however, had gotten off easy, her mother knowing that she really couldn't stop her only daughter, and that if she tried, Lee would just rebel and do what she liked anyway. So, in Ms. Wickliffe's case, it was a no-win situation.

So Lee was left to do her own thing. Which was, until the present day, to shut up in her room, the only sign of life being her three-part ritual of a shower, a trip to the bathroom and a meal. The rest of the day was filled with the thump and roar of bass and guitar solos from the closed door of her room, with the occasional shouts of 'perfect!' and 'you're on fire!' heard from the television for the few hours that Lee managed to pull out the Dance Dance Revolution mat for.

Sick of hearing the one song her daughter insisted on playing almost hourly - 'Wake Me Up When September Ends', by Green Day - Ms. Wickliffe had no choice but to kick Lee out on the street for the day. Although, with cash in hand (well, pocket), music in her ears, and her board under her feet, Lee really wasn't that bothered.

That was a few hours ago. Right now Lee was seated at the Shore Shack, at one of the tables closest to the boardwalk, the track crashing from her headphones - alas, the song that was on the verge of being banned at her household, 'Wake Me Up When September Ends' - interupted by the noise of the crowds hurrying past. Screeching children, pleading parents, tourists either chattering in nasally tones or stunted English, and locals who were either too old or young for school, or those who had chosen to be truants for the day.

One thick-tongued skate shoe restlessly pushing her skateboard to and fro under the table, Lee picked at her lunch with a pair of freshly home-manicured fingernails, lips barely moving as she mouthed the lyrics silently. Sliding one chilli cheese fry between her lips, she rolled her shoulders, feeling the thin material of her black hoodie shift against her upper arms, as it was rolled up to the elbows. Greyscale camouflage tank top had a small red and white logo of a tree in a circle printed in a bottom corner, and black cargo pants were demolished into shreds by the time they reached her shoes. She twisted her position to stop the buckle of her two-row pyramid belt from stabbing the soft skin of her stomach, munching down a couple more chips.

Lee leant backwards, until her shoulderblades were pressed against the back of the chair, ignoring the still searing pain that ripped through her spine, arms looping around the back, disinterested gaze wandering across the faces of the crowd, seeing if she recognised anyone, which was highly unlikely. Upper teeth pulled at her lower lip, and enough thoughts were clouding her mind as a distraction that she jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder, fingers curling into her hoodie. Turning her head, a sharp glare was fixed on whoever had startled her. Much to her dismay, it was Lars. With a brief snarl, one of her own hands rose to pluck the headphones from her ears - the battery had faded while she was listening to it, anyway.

He lowered his head to be eye level with her, still standing. Cocky grin was playing on his lips. "Wagging, are we?"

Swiveling her head to stare absently ahead of her, trying to shut out the undeniably attractive face that was so close from her mind, she muttered in response. "I have an excuse, y'know." She heard Lars pull out a chair, sidling up to her casually. "I'm _meant_ to be absent from school - what's _your_ excuse?"

His elbows dropped to the table top, one palm cupped to hold his chin. "I have much better things to do."

Despite the fact she didn't really care in the least, she asked anyway. "Like what?"

"Like chase down little chicas like you."

"Oh, fuck off."

"Aw, c'mon, Lee. Don't bother trying playing hard to get."

Her teeth grated together at his utterly confident tone. "You're sadly mistaken, _Lars_. I'm not playing hard to get, I'm just showing typical signs of disinterest."

His tongue flicked to play with his lip ring, silenced at least for a little while. Time to rethink my strategy, he thought softly. Eyes scanned across the tables and counter, and crossed Otto's own gaze.

Otto scowled in return to Lars' half-lidded, all-knowing glance. He was wiping his soap-sudded hands off slowly, having noticed the conversation, eyebrows furrowed. It was bad enough Lee was still here after about fourty minutes of ordering, but Lars attempting to woo her made it even worse. It was, in a way, a jealousy on Otto's part. He felt no positive feelings towards Lee, but he was blinded by anger by seeing Lars move in on her. It had been the same on the day of the fight. Otto had spied them chatting during lunchtime, and had felt the same flare of frustration that had made him attack Lee in the first place. _God, he thinks he's such a womanizer._ Truth was, it was relatively true. Times were different now. Lars wasn't 'gross' anymore. He was an older, rough, badassed Latino with a car. He had a way of talking that seemed to make most girls melt. He seemed to feel no guilt when it came to sleeping around, unlike Otto. Hell, Otto had barely done _anything_ sexual, despite what the pen scrolls across desks and cubicles stated.

Lars spied the Rocket's lingering look at the two, pursed his lips and smirked, before making a nuzzling motion to Lee's neck, chin resting on her shoulder. With a low growl, Otto threw down his teatowel, stalking into the back, disappearing out of sight behind a swinging door, just before Lee's palm swung, cracking Lars across the face. He barely flinched, his fingers rubbing the mark slowly.

"What in the fucking Hell do you think you're doing?" Lee hissed, her chair squealing against the floor as she slid a couple of inches further away from him. Her irritation was broken for a period of around five seconds as she fed herself a few more fries, before growling Lars' way again.

The Rodriguez boy shrugged limply. "Trying a new strategy."

"Well you," she gestured towards him with a fry angrily, "Can take your strategies and shove them up your ass." Sliding her skateboard towards her, she stood hurriedly, brushing her fringe away from her eyes, a harsh look directed towards him.

Hand shot forward to grab her by the wrist. Her heart starting to pound, adrenalin beginning to shoot through her body, she halted. Teeth ground together behind her thin-pressed lips. If this had been any other time, she would've started a fight then and there. But she was still sore, and obviously no match for Lars. He had about four or five inches advantage in height, and even if she could meet him in speed, he could overpower her without trying. Not to mention he'd most likely turn it into a sexual encounter. "Let me the fuck go."

"Hear me out, at least."

"Why, though? Why? It's a one-sided chase."

Lars sighed inwardly. He wasn't used to trying this hard. Usually girls were flattered to have his attention, and fell into his arms like a placid milking cow. Lee was somewhat like a wild horse in comparison: not one to be tamed easily, and not letting just anyone get near enough to touch her. He stood up as well, angled close, fingers still around her wrist. His eyes met hers calmly, any tint of seduction seemingly vanished from his face. "Spend the day with me."

She scoffed under her breath. "Is that an order?"

His expression stayed neutral. Scanning her face, his tone was soft. "Believe it or not, my... well, _new_ aim with you isn't sexual."

* * *

Meanwhile, Otto was slamming down wet dishes with such ferocity it was luck that they weren't cracking. Shoving his hands back in the water, ignoring the splash that threatened to wetten his clothes, her continued scrubbing. He smacked down another plate, and he heard a voice at his side.

"Hey, little cuz', those plates aren't made to withstand teenage anger," Tito chuckled, drying a couple of plates casually as Otto narrowed his eyes down at the suds, "What eating you, Rocket boy?"

His jaw went tight. "Don't worry, Tito."

"You sure?"

Silence followed for roughly half a minute, before Otto sighed, long and hard. "It's that girl out there. Lee. That's the girl that got me suspended."

Tito nodded slightly. He was slightly surprised. The Lee he had seen was mild-tempered, almost quiet to the point of being timid. "A bit of a wild temper, is she?"

"Fiery? More like a complete bitch. It was bad enough I had to _serve her_, and she's been here for freaking ages... Now_Lars_ is cracking onto her every chance he gets. Every. Freaking. Chance."

Crash, clatter, bang. Another few dishes went down, and another few were stacked as Tito dried them. "Perhaps little Rocket cuz' likes this wild girl?"

Otto halted. "Are you_kidding_ me? I_hate_ her! I barely know her, and I _FREAKING HATE HER_! Next time she won't get out of it so easily. I'll see her in the street, or on the beach, or something... and she won't know what hit her."

Tito's eyebrows knitted. No matter how much Otto enjoyed revenge, he still didn't encourage it. His grudges have gotten him in trouble too many times - whether it was with his peers, their parents, the school or even the police. "I know this won't go through your head, like the thousand times before that it has been said, but revenge is not the best option, little Otto cuz'. You know that."

It was like Otto hadn't even heard Tito. He growled, venting more to himself than Tito. "Hopefully Lars dumps her right away or something, and she gets all torn up. Hell, she's not even_good enough_for Lars. Not near. How dare she give me crap. I swear she'll pay. Why the Hell is Lars moving in on her, anyway? What the hell does he_see_ in her? She's a bitch through and through!"

A loud sigh interrupted him long enough for his eyes to wander to Tito's face, questioning. Tito's eyes went wistful, and Otto knew what was coming, rolling his eyes in advance. "The Ancient Hawaiians once said: 'the hermit crab will envy the other crab's shell, even if he does not wish for it to be his own'. Get what I mean, Rocket cuz'?"

Otto turned back to his rubber-gloved hands, submerged underneath the murky water. "Yeah, whatever you say Tito."

* * *

Head turned away, she glanced back through her eyelashes, obscure thoughts ran through her head in a daze, jumbled, barely decipherable. She yanked her wrist away, but stayed put. "What do I get out of this?"

"A night out, a ride, a friendship?" _Maybe - probably - something more. I'll tempt you, Lee Wickliffe. I will._

Lee bit her lip. She hadn't made any ongoing friends since moving here, really. She hadn't talked to Reggie and Sam since she first met them, and figured neither of them would want to speak, considering how close they seemed to Otto. Lars had hit her where it hurt - she wouldn't admit it, but she needed a friend. He had figured that. Lars had better perception techniques than most people would've guessed.

Her eyes downcast, still masked by a thick veil of lashes, her brow furrowed. _I know something's going to blow up in my face because of this..._ "Fine." She squared her shoulders, looking him eye to eye. "Take me away."

* * *

**A/N:** Sha-lalalalalalalalala-di-da. My brown-eyed girl.

Anyway. Not so proud of this chapter, as it's rather slow, but it's just a lead-in to some main parts of the story. Every story's slow in some parts (okay, I'm just making excuses for my lack of writing ability). Heheheh. Lee finally caved. Lars strikes again! They'll both regret this...

_**Please review!**_

**Review responses:**

**WhATs hER NaME 9613:** Haha, that's society for you. Blame society! Heheh. Lars'd probably hit on anyone and everyone, but I get what you mean. Lee seems his kind of girl in ways of attitude. Agh, I KNOW! Otto is so full of himself. Ah, well. It's fun to play on in stories. X) Hehehe. I'll have to mention Elise soon. Ohoh. I drew a picture of Lee and Elise. I'll have to e-mail it to you. Elise probably doesn't look right, but, eh. And, yes, get on with the story. I demand ye! -whipcrack-


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